Castle's Prize: the story of Sleeping Beauty
by sorka robinton
Summary: Sorka was feeling a bit more serious and less "mushy" when she wrote this fairy tale, but its not chaptered...at least not yet...but read the comments in the beginning and it will make sense. This is a different version of Sleeping Beauty, one who is not


_this is a whim...an idea i had. please comment, because i plan to revise this again and again...i may continue this "story" by adding more fairy tales as seperate stories. so be careful, if you plan to look for or mark this story, because the title may change and other stories may be added as chapters...if i put it in one big pile of fairy stories...i may do that, but maybe not. can you guys tell me what you think when you review? and you better review...  
  
I plan to rewrite more fairy tales, and if i compile them into one big chaptered story, "castle in the woods" and "ella-of-the-cinders" will not be included in their ranks; these shorter stories will not be chaptered, more like a one time thing....though i will revise them...typos suck.   
  
thank you for your time and reading! much love, sorka robinton_  
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**Castle's Prize: the Story of Sleeping Beauty**  
  
~~~~~~~~`  
  
When the princess was born, I, a young fairy-child of five, was assigned as her playmate and guardian. My aunt Lily was the maidservant of the Queen, so naturally I was put into service also. I didn't mind, for the tiny child was as fair and good natured as any elf or faerie.   
  
She was not quiet, and it was not a simple job for a young fairy as myself to learn to be both a citizen and an adopted mother at the same time. As soon as she was large enough, the princess Maela was up and running. One second she would be there, the next she would be in the other room playing with some kind of destructive, viscous liquid from the kitchens or the slop barrels.   
  
Yet, she was not malignant. She never threw tantrums, was never selfish, and always cared about my feelings with a kind word and a smile. As a small child, she was not spoiled as many princesses are, but rather ignored by her father and the servants. Once in a while, he would come in and watch her, then pat her on the head and smile before leaving to attend to his business.  
  
Daily, it seemed, Maela grew rapidly and became a young girl, with clear blue eyes and curling chestnut hair. "Tier," she would say with a grin, one front tooth missing, "Could you help me with this?" And in her small palm, slender but grubby with dirt, she would be holding a hand full of seeds, or maybe a worm or two, to be planted.   
  
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She hated having to dress up, follow rules, conform to anyone's regulations. Sometimes, when she and I were running in the field above the palace, she would suddenly stop and sit on the fresh green grass.   
  
"Tier," she would say, her blue eyes brimming with tears, "Can't I run away, and be a fairy? For I don't wish to be a princess."   
  
I never understood quite what she meant, for the riches and wealth seemed unbelievable through my thirteen-year-old eyes, but replied, "You don't have wings to fly."   
  
"Still, I could jump high and no one would be the wiser." She would demonstrate, and fall to the ground with a thump and a sigh. "Oh, you're right." Her face, wise for all its eight years, would grimace, and she would get up and walk back with me to the hills, dotted with sheep and cattle.   
  
During lambing season, we would especially take many of these walks, away from the confining palace. She would run to hold the tiny lambs in her lap. The shepherd of that field, a kind widowed man of only twenty-two, would laugh, and taught her how to rub the tiny creatures down with straw after birth until she was as talented at this skill as they.   
  
"Yourn mistress," the shepherd would say, squinting at the twelve year old girl helping a mother sheep wipe down her latest born, "She ain't like any Lady I've ever sawn." His crinkled, windburned green eyes would light up as she ran down the grassy hills, her hair tangled and her preferred homespun skirts stained with green splotches. He grinned, and I tried to supress the saddened sigh that would rise up from deep in my heart, for a human man would never love a fairy.   
  
"I always wait for her," Cairn commented one afternoon, after an especially long day of lambing. "She reminds me of my little boy at home, poor motherless thing. He loves sheep. He's two," Cairn said proudly. I nodded, willingly catering to his fatherly pride, as I often felt such pride in my Mae. He gestured with his head, a wry smile on his face. "Child of the moor, she is. Wasn't made for marble or castles, neither."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
On her thirteenth birthday, she had a party. She sat silently though the process, swathed in rose pink silk and lace, and sadly regarded those seated in front of her. They prattled and spoke greatly of her accomplishments in music, drawing, and dancing, all of which she had no compacity for. They lied because, I suppose, as a girl and a princess, it was imperative that she excelled in these areas.   
  
"Manners are a poor substitute for the mind," she muttered, as a greasy and simpering man was seated next to her, on her right side. Though I was truly supposed to be seated with the fairies at another table, I was present to hear her bitter anathema. At her insistance, I was placed at her left, though the King her father made sure that my iridescent wings were tucked within a suitable frock, though they couldn't cover the gold sparkles that liberally dotted my rosy skin in dreamy swirls.   
  
She ran out, after nightfall, to the stables and sat with her four beloved sheep ,all her father would allow her to keep, covering herself with their coarse, twisting hairs.   
  
"Tier," she said, her eyes filling with angry emotion, "they're going to make me marry that thing that I sat next to tonight!" Maela clenched her fists, crumpling the fine silk she wore. "I hate this life. I would rather die than go through with that ceremony."   
  
She wept bitter tears, the pearly drops mixing with the fleece of the small lamb she held. "Why can't I become a shepherd, like Cairn? He's perfectly happy," she sobbed. Mae's blue eyes gazed at the lamb as it twisted comfortably in her lap.   
  
She slowly answered her own question, at the word marriage that hung silently and cruelly in the air. "Yet I would be alone, which would be the worst thing in the world. An eternity of solitude. If I ran away."   
  
I sat next to her, folding my rose and gold limbs next to hers. I had no words to say, nothing I could do. All my life had been spent keeping her company, which was no punishment, and I yearned to save her from the King's chosen fate. Yet I was powerless.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It seemed as if three years flew by, because suddenly Mae was sixteen, dressed in scarlet, and walking down the Grand Staircase to meet her man, if I even dare call him that. She curtsyed to him, masking the grimace that I knew she made with the cascade of her hair.   
  
"Your Highness," he said, the expression on his swarthy face smug with pleasure.   
  
"Lord Edwren," she replied with a polite incline of her head. I stood in the crowd, my wings fluttering in sympathy for Mae, alone in her terrible ordeal.   
  
The King stood up, his pompous belly preceeding the rest of his body by several inches. "I give my daughter's hand in marriage to this noble man, Edwren of Ignsled." The crowd cheered, and the look of sadness deepened in Mae's blue eyes.   
  
A woman ran from the crowd, her stomach swelled with child. "You liar!" she shrieked. "Scoundrel!" Her face contorted with rage as wings burst from her dress. She pointed her accusing finger at Lord Edwren, shaking it wrathfully at his pudgy face.   
  
Edwren stepped back. "Who are you?" he asked, his shifty black eyes fluttering as if he were innocent.   
  
"You said you loved me!" she sobbed, her golden hair twining in a breeze that only she could feel. "And you would marry her," she said accusingly, pointing a finger at my Mae, who looked like jumping on the man herself and strangling him herself for his deceit.   
  
The woman, her eyes glinting with magic, stood in the center of the ballroom. "You underestimated me," she seethed. "Did you know I was a fairy, you dog, you cur?" Her voice rang out through the marble room. All eyes were transfixed on her gravid figure and the body of Edwren as he groveled on the ground, prone. She smacked his head with the flat of her palm, ruby fire flaring at the contact. He fell over, dead.   
  
The woman turned to Mae, her eyes flashing. "And you, you will sleep- until some deserving man comes along- as if any are good enough for you!" she said, her voice hatefully sardonic. "You may be a legend, a simple prize to be won," she snarled, sarcasm dripping like venom from her words. Mae's eyes flared with anger and she moved to protest, but the woman was too far gone in her madness.   
  
With a twist of her hand, she sent a harsh shower of red sparks towards the girl, who attempted to dive out of the way. Before the malignant power actually even touched the princess, the madwoman had stabbed herself in the heart with a long dagger she had produced from out of thin air.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mae crumpled slowly to the ground, the ruby drops blending with her dress. "Tier," she whispered, her voice as faint as a shadow. "Don't let just anyone wake me..." The words trailed off as her head drooped with a faint sigh.   
  
The king rushed forward. "What? What happened?" he boomed. But he swayed, and drooped softly to the floor. All other humans in the room shuddered once and closed their eyes, yawning and drifting off into sleep.   
  
The crowd of fairies, the only ones yet awake, stood there silently before a sigh rippled through the ranks of beholden immortals. "We can leave," they murmured. "Our time of servitude is over."   
  
In groups, the winged creatures fluttered away, their blue, rose, and gold skin shimmering as they flew out the windows, leaving the forsaken palace.   
  
"Stop!" I cried, waving my arms. "What happened?" They traveled past me, some looking and some ignoring me in their mass exodus. One fairy, her violet face radient with freedom, paused by my side.   
  
"Child," she cooed, her voice as compassionate as her countenance. "Leave this place. She has cast a sleep-spell. Your human girl there, she will rest too, and until she is woken there may be no catalyst for the palace's salvation." She made as if to move on, but I clung to her hand.   
  
"Please, ma'am. What will wake her?" I begged.   
  
She smiled, her lavender eyes gentle. "A man, a mortal, that may make her happiest." The fairy squeezed my hand once before gently drifting out of the stained glass window.   
  
I alone was left sitting on the floor, holding Mae's head in my lap as she slept, breathing softly.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Well, to say the least, it hasn't been a hundred years yet, only twelve. I still look like a young woman with rose and gold skin, not much changed except for my age, thirty-three. I have never left the side of my Lady, let alone married; I have remained faithful in my vow to keep watch over her.   
  
From where I left Mae, sleeping on her bed, she has looked the same for all these years. Changed from her spoiled silk gown, she is once again the country beauty in her honey-colored muslin, her only ornaments fresh flowers in her long hair.   
  
The rose bushes in the Royal Gardens have overrun the place, so I couldn't even have left if I wished to. I have never gardened, and roses just aren't my high point. I chopped it back again and again, but they have taken a liking to this place and will not go away.   
  
For the first time in years, I hear other voices than my own and the dogs, who have kept me company throughout the years. Brave, strong voices of young men, the cracking of branches, merry songs echoing through bushes. "Ho! Keep it up, men!" comes the pompous call of an aristocrat. "If the legends are true, I shall have the princess by tomorrow morn!"   
  
I peer out the window. In front of me is a small party, led by a young prince, judging by the crown of precious jewels set upon his brow. Waving his hand, his handsome face contorts with greed as he gazes upon the fineness of the palace walls, the marble statues, the glittering ponds.   
  
A young man, his eyes as green as emeralds, scowled at the man, but turned away quickly. He continued to hack at the persistant roses, solemn determination in his eyes. Muttering, he cursed under his breath.   
  
I wrapped myself in the invisible wind and drifted down near his side, listening softly. A lean man with grass-green eyes, now in his late thirties, lumbered over to the young man. "Collun," he sighed.  
  
"Stupid, wicked prince," the boy said, his handsome features twisted in a grimace of contempt. He stretched his strong young frame before hacking away another wood-like branch, its dead twigs crackling as it fell. "I do hate having to leave the herds, and leaving Trevir alone. What if he is hurt, or-"   
  
"You know he can take care of them sheep, best boy I ever hired," was his reply, "Everything will be fine." His eyes crinkled in a smile as he patted his son's shoulder and went off to cut through more obstacles.   
  
I paused, staring at the man's face from all angles. It was so similar to...but the face I saw was matured subtly, but still the kindhearted features I knew so well. "Cairn?" I whispered. He jerked around, staring into the empty air around him.   
  
"Witchcraft?" he whispered, his voice hushed. "Or is it...is it Tier?"   
  
"Its me," I replied, softly, as so no one else would hear my words. He stared at the blank air, trying to see me. Releasing myself from the wind, I once again greeted Mae's childhood inspiration.   
  
"Are them legends true?" he asked, "Is it she?" He let out a shuddering sigh. "Well. That prince there yonder is going to have his fight to win her, then. Confident fool, that one is."   
  
I smiled and pointed to the solemn young man. "Is that your son? The one who loves the moors?"   
  
Cairn's chest swelled with the same pride he showed when the boy was two years old. "Yes, ma'am. He's my boy, eighteen this month. Good lad, devoted to his herd and his old Pa. Started building a cottage this past season, but has no woman to fill it...yet..." The man turned to look at the abandoned palace, a frown on his face. "I hope he finds one like your Mae, she was a right smart girl." He winked.   
  
Some idea sprouted in my mind, twining vine-like as the plan branched out. I felt a sigh of relief permeate my mind as I saw fragrant petals blooming from my idea, forming itself into a workable scheme.   
  
"That can be arranged," I said slyly. He laughed, catching on to my plan.   
  
"What can I do for you, m'lady?" he asked with a bow.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
  
That night, as the party sat in the courtyard, I quietly rolled a keg of fine wine into the center of the Prince's friends. I watched, amused, as they loudly got drunk, passed out, and lay prone on the marble steps. They rolled and burped like the pigs they were, sleeping out their drunkeness. They would not be a problem tonight.   
  
Collun, sitting with his father, felt the wind stir his light brown hair. He shivered, feeling the cold breeze chill his arms, clad only in light homespun white shirt and brown tunic. "Father?" he said, his teeth chattering, "I'm going to try find some blankets."   
  
His father nodded, seemingly unaffected by the freezing temperature. "All right, Collun," he said mildly, a slight smile on his face. "Hope you find some, take one of the lanterns."   
  
The boy stood, chafing his arms with his hands in an attempt to warm them. Grasping the handle of the iron and glass lamp, Collun stood with a sigh and turned to the party of nobles. They snored, faces vacant and sleeping, the empty cask of wine tossed carelessly on the side.   
  
He prodded one of them, laying over the supply of wool cloth. "Damnation!" he breathed, as the prince drunkenly lolled over, stretching his frame over the piles of blankets.   
  
My invisible hand plucked his sleeve. He twirled around, much like Cairn had, and gazed confusedly into the air around him. "Follow," I whispered, and the poor lad's eyes grew wide.   
  
"What spirit are you?" he replied, crouched fearfully above the prince, but his emerald eyes clear of any irrational delerium.   
  
I grinned, but remained invisible. "Collun," I began, and he started visibly as he heard his name, "Follow me. There is something you must see."   
  
He stood, knees steady, and peered into the darkness. "Who are you? Where are you?" he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.   
  
"Here." I allowed the outline of my form to show, the gold swirls and sparkles on my skin glowing dimly in the absolute darkness, besides the rusty lantern. He followed as I led him through the maze of broken roses, around the abandoned garden, and finally past the great door that led to the hall.   
  
"Glory," he said, his voice echoing in the empty hall. He peered into the face of a sleeping guard, tapping the man's shoulder with curiosity. "What happened here?"   
  
"The revenge of an angry fairy," I replied, gliding up the great stairs, which twelve years ago Mae had descended as the future bride of the dead Edwren, who yet lay on the ballroom floor.   
  
I led him past cobwebs, up hundreds of stairs, dusty with its time of uselessness. Finally, as he reached the highest door in the tower, I allowed myself to fade out of view.   
  
"Miss?" he breathed, still shivering from the chill. "Miss?!" He stared around him at the gloomy surroundings, then hastily pushed through the carved doorway with a shudder.   
  
Closing it against the cobwebs and dark shadows, he turned and examined the room he had entered. I had taken great care to make it presentable, lighting dozens of small, fine wax candles in silver star holders, set with sparkling gems. A warm fire burned in its place, warming the room. With a grateful sigh, he hurried forward to warm himself.   
  
"Spirit, thank you," he said to the not-so-empty-air, "For this welcome, and the blankets left for my father to enjoy also." He reached for an armful of the soft quilts, piled high on the couch, when he caught sight of my Mae, placed sleeping on the deep carpet to the side of the fireplace.   
  
She lay as if sleeping on her side, instead of positioned in an ornate but uncomfortable fashion. Her eyes were shut, yet her skin was still rosy with youth after all these years. The flowers dotting her chestnut curls sparkled with dew in the place of gemstones, and the simple cotton gown she wore became her even more than the most glamorous of silken costumes could have.   
  
Collun, forgetting the quilts, bent over the sleeping girl. "Hello?" he asked, but the only reply he received was her soft breathing. "Hello, miss?"   
  
His hand brushed the silky ringlets, lingering on her cheek. A gentle look swam over his features, wonderment shining in his green eyes. "Beautiful," he murmured, as he tilted his head, regarding Mae.   
  
"Will you not wake?" he asked, carefully patting her shoulder. I watched at his futile efforts, waiting for the one key to her salvation. I could not bring myself to tell him, for the lad must figure it out for himself.   
  
With a tender hand, Collun finally stroked the mass of blossom-decorated locks away from her face. "Maid, I do believe you are the loveliest thing I have ever seen," he said conversationally, "And I would wish you to wake, so I may speak to you. Are you truly sleeping, or are you teasing me with pretended rest?" And with a softer voice, he added, "Are you what the spirit led me to?"   
  
He took her in his arms, her form molding to his grasp as her head was cradled against his forearm. She did not stir, so he sat back with a sigh. "Perhaps my father will know what to do," he commented. "If I am able to find my way back," he hinted to the air, trying to see me. I stood behind him, trying not to giggle as he glared accusingly in the wrong direction.   
  
He let out a rueful sigh. "I have to go now, to find my father," he told her. It was charming how he spoke to her, and I wondered if she could hear the words. Leaning over, he just brushed her lips with his, ("Finally!" I thought), and held her in his arms as if he could not bear to let go.   
  
"Wait for me," he said irrationally with a grin, beginning to shift her from his lap.   
  
Fortunately, Mae chose that perfect moment to stir. With a light breath, she opened her eyes and tilted her head back. He nearly jumped as he saw her arm rise, then drop back to its former position. "I've been waiting," she replied, "for twelve long years. Where have you been?" she asked, teasingly.   
  
Collun simply stared, mouth gaping. "But you were...I mean, what was..." he said, flustered.   
  
I appeared in the corner. "She was under a spell," I told him, watching his eyes grow larger and larger with shock.   
  
"Tier!" Mae squealed. Her blue eyes opened wide. "You're all grown up, a woman?"   
  
"Its been twelve years! I'm now thirty-three," I assured her. She gasped, then looked at her hands, and touched her hair.   
  
"And I'm yet sixteen?" she asked. I nodded. "That's strange. How did this happen again...? I could hear you speaking," she told Collun, "And Tier sometimes, a long time ago."   
  
"Collun here kissed you and you woke." They both blushed, young things. "And your father has not yet stirred, so if there is an excape to attempt, it should be done now..."   
  
They exchanged frantic glances. "We better go now," he said, standing hastily. She rose also and we clattered down the tower steps. Well, not me, I flew above near the ceiling to stay out of the way.   
  
Cairn she met with a glad cry, and he beamed as both his son and his shepherd girl clasped hands shyly. "Well, I see things are in order," he laughed, and we walked out of the gates leaving the drunken prince and sleeping king in their castle.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
You ought to know how Mae's life went after this, but I shall tell you anyway. She and her man were married and they moved into the cottage built a field away from Cairn's. They are truly happy, and maintain the largest flock of sheep ever seen in the kingdom.   
  
That is the end of the story, yet I still have to tell you what happened to me.   
  
A year passed before any large changes in my life occured. I set up my home in the forest, a solitary chamber in a large, hollow oak. It was peaceful, to be sure, but still something was missing. I didnt know it then, but my heart still felt what I could not comprehend.   
  
At about the same time as Collun and Mae's first child was born, a healthy boy with curling brown hair and green-blue eyes, the winter wind became especially chilly. Flying home one day, I saw Cairn struggling home, cold in his worn jacket. I caught up to him, and was met with a warm greeting that permeated even through my tired mind.   
  
I fixed supper for him in his small cottage, as he was too frozen to do much but chatter his teeth and smile. I returned the next week and then the day after that. In short, I learned that my existance was worth not a whit without my Cairn.   
  
We were married, I at the age of thirty-four and he thirty-nine. "Old" age, but still my life is complete. We spend each day for each other, and I am sure our joy shall never fade, even in the next world and beyond.   
  
And never once did Cairn care that my skin and eyes were gold, that I was a fairy.   
  
Even though I am not a girl anymore, a young bride, I bore a daughter a year later. She had golden hair, but showed the characteristic skin of a human. She may have some recessive magic in her blood, but perhaps it will not surface until many years later. Mae tells me that she is a small copy of myself, though I maintain that she has Cairn's expressive eyes.   
  
This began as the story of Mae, her years of rest, and her awakening. It ended in a fairy story for the both of us, who found our due reward in love, comfort, and joy.   
  
And thus, all lived happily ever after.   
  
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